


Christmas Ashes

by bluefallenfandomwallflowers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Castiel, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Christmas Smut, Everyone is adorable and I can't even, Holiday, M/M, Merry Christmas, Recreational Drug Use, Silly Sam, Smut, That's a lotta christmas tags i must say, Top Dean Winchester, Ya filthy animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 21:48:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12850185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluefallenfandomwallflowers/pseuds/bluefallenfandomwallflowers
Summary: “Holy shit, guys,” he breathes, setting his bag of alcohol down and stuffing his hands in his pockets. “What’s this?”Sam grins. “This is Christmas, asshole.”





	Christmas Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone!
> 
> I know, it has been a very long time since I have posted, but I have been attempting to figure out my life and (you'll understand when you read this) venturing into some new territory. XD
> 
> Don't worry, more fics to come. I have been writing down prompts for months and months, and I finally have time to actually write them out!
> 
> So, here's to a Merry Christmas... And a Happy New Year!
> 
> <3 Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. Last year, I wrote another Christmas fic that I adore, but I literally posted it on Christmas Eve so of course, not many people were interested in reading it _after_ Christmas, so if you get the chance... ;) 
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/8963923

When December rolls around and snow begins to fall bit by bit, hinting at something bigger, Dean is hit with that feeling that always rises up around this time of the year. No matter the unlucky cards he’s been dealt, the child hiding in the corner of his heart peeks out with a silent cry of, “ _Christmas_!”

His heart leaps just a bit at the sight of dazzling lights and silly hats and gifts bundled up in colorful wrapping paper. The crisp air and tiny snowflakes caked on the windows of the motel windows and the Impala’s windshield give everything a softer look, the same appearance that Dean once saw as a child, before everything happened.

But even when that happy wave passes over him, it’s immediately washed away when he remembers.

There’s a _reason_ they haven’t celebrated Christmas in years. As years have passed, things have only gotten worse. Friends and family have perished, hardships have weighed on both him and Sam, and there’s no point.

That’s what he keeps telling himself.

So when Castiel walks into the library one day and announces that this year they will celebrating Christmas, Dean is the one to look him in the eye and say, “Um, no.”

Castiel doesn’t look swayed by his curt answer, instead crossing his arms in defiance. “Yes, Dean. We are. Sam and I talked about it, and we agree that we all need some fun, even if for a day.”

Slowly, deliberately, Dean looks over at Sam and raises his eyebrows. “You agreed to this?”

Sam shut his laptop and sighs. “Yeah, Dean, I did. Cas makes a good point! It’ll be fun, we can exchange presents and stuff our faces…”

Rubbing his hands down his face, Dean makes a sound of indignation. “This is like a jinx for us, Sam. We’ll have a stupid good time and then something horrible will happen.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Cas asks softly. He sits down next to Dean, expression sad.

Dean examines his blue eyes. “Yeah, I do. That’s how it works, Cas. That’s our life.”

It’s a moment of silence between them all, and while Sam looks away, thinking, Cas keeps his eyes on Dean’s face. “I think it might be worth it,” Cas eventually says. He settles his hand on Dean’s wrist.

He feels frozen, locked in the pressure between the desire and the fear.

“Do what you want.” Dean suddenly feels emotional, and he doesn’t know why. He pulls away from Cas’ touch, grips his bottle of beer, and heads off towards his room.

Dean can hear their whispers as he leaves, and his heart aches.

\---

It’s a miracle when the streets are too blocked up by snow in Lebanon for Dean to go out on Christmas Eve and drink his sadness away.

He wasn’t really looking forward to it anyway. It’s what he’s done every year for a long time, so the possibility of collapsing in a comfortable bed instead of a cold alleyway is a bit nicer than the alternative.

Dean makes it to the bunker before the air is too stuffed with white and the sun has set. On his way back, he had had to pass a short street occupied by a few lonely houses, and he was surprised to find families gathered inside one of them, celebrating. Lebanon is a crappy town, and it’s not the prettiest place. But knowing that even in this dreary place someone can have fun and be with people they love is kind of comforting.

And then depressing, because Dean misses his family and friends. He remembers the Christmases before Sammy, before the bad. His mom’s baking and his father’s football game. His own attempt to guess his presents and the glorious surprise after ripping them open.

Dean definitely needs more booze.

The bunker door creaks open, and the paper bag in his arms crinkles, bottles clinking inside. Dean doesn’t register anything really as he stomps down the stairs, clearing his throat and pulling out a bottle of whiskey to check whether it’s rich enough.

Someone clears their throat as he is about to step into the hallway, and Dean spins around, eyebrows cross.

A surprise meets his gaze.

Sam and Cas are standing there, clad in sweaters, Sam with elf ears and Cas with a santa hat, right in front of a gigantic Christmas tree wrapped in colorful lights. That’s not the only thing new though; there are lights strung all around the library, and as Dean involuntarily stumbles over to see if this is all real, he finds a huge banner hanging high that reads, “ **Merry Christmas, Dean** ”

“Holy shit, guys,” he breathes, setting his bag of alcohol down and stuffing his hands in his pockets. “What’s this?”

Sam grins. “This is Christmas, asshole.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” But Dean can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him, and he steps up to the tree, trying to avoid their gazes.

“We’re celebrating whether you like it or not,” Cas declares. He walks over to Dean and nudges his chest with a cherry pie. “Even if all we do is drink and eat pie.”

Looking down at the pie, Dean is hit with the magical scent. Looking up, he watches as Sam pulls a 12 pack from behind his back.

“Okay then,” Dean decides, pushing all other thoughts away. “Let’s do this.”

\---

Dean’s only two beers in when Cas announces, “Present time!”

They have already watched Home Alone on a giant TV Sam bought as a present to them all from the comfort of a shit ton of blankets and pillows piled up against the wall. Dean’s pretty damn comfy, and if he’s honest, happy.

Cas is sitting next to him, picking at a bowl of chocolate covered popcorn, and Dean has to make an effort not to look at his mouth while he eats because who knew how erotic it was to watch Cas examine every piece before popping it through his cotton candy lips and chew it slowly, eyes glued to the screen.

After reaching for his second beer after Kevin started to plan out his house of death, Dean accidentally rested his hand on Cas’ thigh. He swore he saw Cas’ cheeks go a bit red in the dim light of the Christmas lights, but he could have been mistaken.

Either way, his hand had been resting there for a solid forty-five minutes or so, and Cas didn’t seem bothered…

Dean feels a slight pain in his chest when he pulls his hand away, but suddenly he feels numb when he sees Cas reach under the Christmas tree and pull out a bundle of presents. “Oh, fuck… I-I didn’t get you guys anything,” Dean says quietly, picking at his sweater.

“Don’t worry about it, Dean,” Sam says, reaching over and patting his back, smile reassuring.

“You’ve already given us so much,” Cas chimes in, eyes soft in the light, and Dean’s heart beats a little faster. It’s seriously so pretty in this room, and that’s not an adjective Dean uses lightly. It really feels like Christmas.

Dean licks his lips as Sam hands over a couple of presents to him and then Cas. “I hope you guys like them. I suck at knowing what to get, but I tried my best!” Sam gives them a thumb up, and Dean laughs before tearing open his first present like a little kid.

Inside this one is a cookbook, and not a girly one either. Not that Dean would have complained, but this one is literally only filled with recipes that involve _bacon_. “Oh my God, this is awesome!” He exclaims, smiling wide at Sam who looks relieved.

“Yeah?”

“Seriously! You know I love me some bacon.” Dean winks and digs into his second present as Cas thanks Sam for his brand new iPhone and bird feeder.

“You can put it up outside the bunker,” Sam explains, smiling. “And I can help you set up your phone later.”

“Thank you so much, Sam, this means the world to me,” Cas says, and he leans over to hug Sam tightly. “Now I can take twice as many pictures!”

“Exactly!”

Dean grins at Cas who returns it with a sweet smile. Upon opening his second present, Dean is completely flabbergasted. “ _Sam_ , you seriously rock, holy shit.”

He holds up a gorgeous set of shiny new Led Zeppelin tapes, tapes he hasn’t listened to in a long time due to the unfortunate encounter of passing time upon his old ones. Dean recalls the sting of pain he had felt when one of his beloved tapes had fallen apart from so much use.

Due to circumstances, he hasn’t had the time to search for replacements. The fact that Sam knew just the ones he needed makes Dean love him even more, if possible.

“I don’t even care. I’m going to bear hug you until you pass out.” Dean squeezes his little brother until he about does that, and Sam is cackling.

“You’re welcome,” he gasps when Dean pulls away.

“My turn,” Cas says, handing them each a present.

Dean is about to tear open his like he did with Sam’s, but he becomes aware of the wrapping paper and how utterly perfect it looks. It literally looks like Santa himself wrapped the gorgeous little fucker. “This looks too nice to open,” he voices aloud, and Cas rolls his eyes.

“It’s not my best work,” Cas says and Dean snorts.

“You little shit,” he mumbles, before undoing the ribbon and carefully peeling away the paper.

Underneath are two presents in one box. The first he pulls out is a mixtape, much like the one he gave Cas not too long ago. “I know you have a specific type,” Cas explains, moving closer, “but I thought these songs were very lovely and meaningful.”

Dean examines the charming writing on the front. _Dean’s Mixtape_. He catches color on the side, and his body is alit with something so warm. _To Dean. Love, Castiel._

He can’t look at Cas just yet or he’s afraid some emotions might spill over. Pulling out the next item in the box, he makes a soft noise.

It’s a necklace, the chain made of soft brown leather, and at the end is a ring. While Sam thanks Cas for a super thick book on some sort of crazy subject and a fancy looking pen, Dean is left awestruck. He brings the ring close to his face. It’s silver and there are words etched on it, but they are written in what appears to be Enochian.

Dean feels a blush coming on, because it can’t be anything but what he wants it to be.

God, how he wants it to be.

He glances up and Cas is eyeing him with a nervous look. “I--” Cas begins to speak, but Dean cuts him off by saying, “Come here,” and he pulls Cas to his chest, planting his hand in his hair, the other around his shoulders and he says a quiet thank you in his ear, not wanting to let go.

Cas’ arms are tight around his middle, and he shivers when Cas’ fingers stray down his spine.

Eventually Dean pulls away and he’s left wondering exactly what the Enochian means on his ring. He decides to figure it out later, and he pulls the necklace over his neck and settles the ring square on his chest.

He can feel Cas’ eyes on him, but he avoids looking. There’s too much meaning behind all of this, and he needs a moment to cool down and think.

“So, is it time for Home Alone 2?” He asks, punching Sam with a smile.

“Actually,” Sam says, rubbing his arm and cringing, “I had another idea about what we could do before that…” He looks a little embarrassed as he looks away and scratches his head. “But, uh, I don’t know if I should even bring it up.”

“Oh, come on Sammy. It can’t be worse than it is now.” Dean winks at Cas so he knows he’s kidding.

Sam glances over at Cas who looks confused.

“Well, I-I brought something that, uh, might… get our mind off things…”

Sam reaches into his coat pocket and Dean chokes when he pulls out a motherfuckin’ bag of marijuana.

“Holy fuck, are you serious!?” Dean laughs. “Sam!”

“What!?” Sam looks thoroughly nervous now, like a scared little puppy and he tucks his hair back. “I just thought… it’s kinda fun and stuff…”

“You’ve smoked weed before!?” Dean cannot believe what is happening.

“Well, yeah, me and Cas--” his mouth snaps shut and he looks as if he wasn’t supposed to say that.

Dean’s head whips towards Cas who is red in the face. “You too!?”

“Yes, well, Sam and I were quite depressed a couple of times when we believed you to be dead…” Cas locks his fingers together and then pries them apart, biting his lip.

“Oh my fucking shit,” Dean says, covering his face. “You guys!”

“Yeah, so, anyway… Wanna?”

“What!?”

“I-I would like to, only if Dean does,” Cas says and Dean just about croaks.

His innocent little brother and his innocent little angel… Okay, well, maybe not exactly, but still!

“Dean? Do you want to?” Sam asks, tilting his head. He seems a little more sure of his decision now that Cas is on board, but Dean is still on dry land, gaping like a fish out of water.

“I- well…” Now Dean feels a bit embarrassed.

“Have you ever smoked marijuana before, Dean?” Castiel asks, and his voice is way too sweet to be talking about drugs so casually.

“No…”

Both Cas and Sam look very, very surprised. “Really?” Sam asks.

“Dude! I’m not some wimpy virgin, I’ve done… some things.”

Sam snorts. “I can’t believe this.”

“I can’t believe _you_!” Dean exclaims, jumping to his feet. “I just never thought you’d do something like this! You’re always going on about _my_ health when--”

“Dean, it was only a few times.”

“A few?? Both of you? Together?”

“By the way, Cas is the one who mentioned it to me, just to clear that up,” Sam says, coughing when Cas shoots him a glare.

“You are putting me in a bad light,” Cas says. “Look, Dean, we don’t have to. It was just Sam’s suggestion. Yes, I mentioned it to Sam because I couldn’t bear the pain of losing you again and again. It helps you forget, even if for a bit. I’m not saying it is conventional, but it certainly does the trick. And…. It’s Christmas.”

Dean goes back and forth between Cas, who merely looks curious, and Sam, who is bouncing with both fear and excitement.

Finally, Dean sighs. “Okay… I guess.”

Sam smiles. “You have made the right choice, dear brother. It’s a lot of fun, there’s a reason a bunch of stupid teenagers do it!”

“Yes, because my sole desire it to be a stupid teenager.”

“Well, you’re in luck, because you most certainly were one!”

“You’re really milkin’ it, Sam.”

Dean isn’t really that annoyed, but yes, he’s a little nervous. And he’s still surprised. He doesn’t think weed is _that_ big of a deal, as long as people aren’t driving under the influence and doing stupid shit. He’s heard of how marijuana has been a savior for people with certain illnesses, and he sees the benefits. But there’s a reason he’s never done drugs or anything.

His father used to preach on how people who abused substances were cowards. Using anything as a crutch has seemed like weakness in his eyes since then, but Dean isn’t pure of heart when it comes to that. Alcohol is his number one go to.

But, he’s certain that the after effects aren’t as harsh as that of a hangover.

So Dean’s all for it.

He sits back down, right next to Cas, and their legs brush against each other. As Sam pulls over a mysterious looking bag, he whispers, “I don’t know how to do this, man.”

Cas tilts his head. “Don’t worry, Dean. We will teach you.”

While Sam examines the marijuana with intensity, Cas picks up the bag and sets it in his lap. “This is where we keep our supplies,” he says.

“I can’t believe you dorks have a bag specifically designed for your drug supplies,” Dean mumbles, leaning over.

Cas smirks and continues. “So, I guess we will leave it up to you to decide how you would like to smoke. We have rolling paper if you would prefer, as they say, a joint,” Cas says, holding up a package. Dean plucks it from his hands and looks it over.

“Dragon fruit flavored?” He asks.

“Sam picked it out,” Cas whispers, and Sam laughs. “We also have a pipe that I bought, um, some time ago… I just thought it was very pretty.”

He hands it to Dean and continues to rummage through the bag. The pipe in Dean’s hand is small and, he must agree, a very pretty shade of blue. One end is bulbed with what appears to be a little bowl where he guesses the weed goes, a little hole on the side. The rest of it spirals down to the tip where another tiny hole resides.

Dean’s interest has certainly peaked.

“Do you guys have a bong?” He asks.

Sam shakes his head. “Too hard to conceal and stuff.”

“From me?” Dean raises his eyebrows.

“Well, yeah. Partly. We’re sorry, we just didn’t know how you would take it.” Sam looks apologetic, but Dean understands. He can’t count how many times he’s stumbled in drunk to Sam’s disappointment, how many times he’s hidden after those encounters.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He sets the pipe down gently. “Anything else?”

“I bought a bubbler!” Sam says, holding up another spirally looking piece. It holds the atmosphere of art, in a strange way. It looks as if it belongs in a museum.

“Oo,” Cas says, taking it gently.

“Wow, you guys. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around this…” Dean laughs, but there’s this strange joy racing through him.

This all feels so human. Like they’re normal and they have silly little secrets.

“Which would you like?”

“We should… try them all,” Dean concludes, gleaming.

Cas’ laugh resonates within him, and they all nod. “Yes!” Sam says.

“Oh, we also have a weed pen…” Castiel smirks at Sam. “Sam uses it sometimes because it is very, uh, secretive.”

“And it’s easier on my lungs!” Sam argues, but he’s giggling as if he’s already high.

Cas rolls his eyes. He settles on bent legs in front of Dean, gazing into his eyes. “What would you like to start with?”

“Ah, I- uh, you choose.” Yep, the nerves are back.

Dean has fought the devil himself, and yet, _this_ makes him nervous.

“Oh, let’s start him off with a joint, so he knows how much more difficult this shit used to be,” Sam suggests, grinning. He himself takes the weed pen and starts pressing the singular button upon it multiple time.

“Okay, but we should all smoke at the same time,” Cas says.

Sam nods and it’s so uniform as Sam hands Cas the bag of weed, and goes digging through the bag for a smaller bag. After unzipping it, Dean recognizes it as a little kit. “Okay, so… maybe there have been a few times we have done it around you…” Sam looks sheepish. “So we have our special stuff to make sure you didn’t find out.”

“Oh my god,” Dean groans.

“Haha. So, first off, this is a screen. We use this for the bowl in the pipe and bubbler so the weed doesn’t fall in, you know? So if you wanna do it, Cas…” Cas takes it and puts it all nice and neat in its place. Dean swallows. “Then, we have our hand sanitizer and our eye drops and um, yes, some perfume. It’s all we could find! Also, a very tiny spoon so we can scoop up the weed!”

Sam looks so utterly proud and Dean can’t fucking even.

“But, oh yeah, we have to grind up the weed.”

“Huh?”

“Well, look.” Sam holds up the bag of weed. Inside, it looks like chunks of weird looking grass. “We gotta grind it up so we can smoke it.”

“Oh.”

“Wanna do it, Dean?” Sam grins. He hands Dean a little thing that looks like a short tin can, but it’s heavy.

“Uh, sure.”

Sam twists the grinder, and the top of comes off. “This is where we put the little chunks. But we have to break those off from these big ones ourselves. The dirty work.” Sam does this, and Dean finally catches a whiff of that strong smell. It’s not totally unpleasant, but it’s foreign now that he knows it’s associated with him and not some droopy eyed guy at a gas station cash register.

Sam deposits the smaller chunks in the grinder before placing the top back on. “Okay, twist like this and then the next compartment will have the ground up weed!”

“What’s in the third one?” Dean asks, pointing at the lowest level on the grinder.

“That’s the kief,” Cas says. “It contains the majority of the cannabinoids.”

“It packs the biggest punch, and if you wanna get _super_ high, just smoking that will do the trick.”

“Then… we’re gonna smoke _that_ , right?”

Sam and Cas share a look. They both smile. “Hell yes,” Sam says, lying back on the fluffy blankets.

Dean hasn’t seen Sam this ecstatic since he discovered kale.

He starts to turn the grinder, and they both watch him with silly grins. “You guys are fuckin’ weird,” he says.

They all laugh and after Dean is finished and Cas takes the grinder from him, Dean is swallowing the last of beer no. 2.

Cas rips open the package of rolling paper and flattens it out a bit, a determined look on his face. Then, he’s screwing open the second compartment and, taking the tiny spoon, he begins to scoop the weed onto the paper.

It’s interesting to watch, as if Cas is throwing together a spell.

Cas sweeps his lovely tongue across the paper and with precision, rolls the paper perfectly. “I’m shit at that,” Sam says. “Cas is such a pro.”

“What a compliment,” Dean jokes, settling his hand on Cas’ thigh.

Cas’ eye catches his, and fuck, he wants to pull him over into his lap and never let him go.

“Lighter?” Cas asks.

Sam holds it up and Cas scoops it up and he’s saying, “Ready, Dean? Would you like the first hit?”

“Sure, but, how do I do it exactly?”

“You have to breathe it in and hold it for as long as you can,” Sam says simply, rolling onto his belly. “You’re gonna cough, so here.” He hands over a bottle of water and Dean takes it nervously.

“Okay… here I go.”

“I’ll light it for you,” Cas says, tone supportive. He hands over the joint, and Dean feels a bit childish as he takes it with two hands and hunkers down to bring it to his lips. “Breathe in as soon as I light it, okay?”

Dean nods. Then Cas is flicking the lighter on, and the flame falls to the end of the joint. He sucks in a bit, and then harder, and he feels the smoke fill his mouth.

And yeah, he’s coughing a shitstorm.

Sam giggles, but Cas hands him the water and rubs Dean’s neck. “Don’t worry, that always happens. It’ll get easier though.”

“Especially when you’re high!” Sam exclaims. “Then it’ll be as easy as breathing.”

Dean nods, and his eyes are watering, but he isn’t going down without a fight. He tries again and this time when Cas lights the end, he is able to ignore the slight desire to cough up a lung and hold in the smoke. It burns down his throat, and the smell is strong, but he feels excitement course through him.

He holds it for a very long time, and then he’s letting it out in one single stream, the smoke rising up. “Fuck, I hope there aren’t fire sprinklers in here,” he says.

“I think we’re good,” Sam says, smiling. He takes his weed pen and holds down the button, breathing in, holding it, then letting it go in a small puff of smoke.

Cas takes the joint between two fingers and lights it smoothly. He holds in the smoke and hands the joint back to Dean, glancing at him. They share a smile before Cas tilts his head back, his neck long and smooth, the smoke billowing up.

Dean is about to take another hit, but Sam stops him, saying, “We should use the pipe now! It’s a lot more effective than the joint.”

“Well, then, Doctor Sam, let’s get right on that,” Dean says.

Dean has no idea why, but Sam is laughing as he picks up the pipe and the grinder. He can’t even sit up straight as he laughs his ass off and Dean laughs at him. “His tolerance is incredibly low,” Cas whispers in his ear. “Seriously, two hits make him insane.”

This is fucking unbelievable.

They all laugh as Cas puts the pipe together, gathering the weed in the little bowl. He hands it to Dean, saying, “Use your finger to cover the hole on the side. Breathe in as soon as the lighter touches and keep the hole covered until you pass it to me, or the smoke will be released.”

Dean nods and lights it up. This is certainly more efficient, as a barrel of smoke rolls inside him, and he’s coughing to death again.

“Aw, it’s okay, Dean…”

“Don’t patronize me,” he laughs, but he’s disappointed because he’s kind of failing at this.

“I have an idea,” Cas says quietly, as if he doesn’t want Sam to hear. Dean’s hand, the one holding the pipe, falls softly to his leg.

“Yeah?”

“Well, I have heard that an effective way of helping an amateur is to… I think the word is ‘shotgun’?”

“Doesn’t that mean pounding down a beer?”

Cas laughs, shaking his head. “No, Dean. It means having someone inhale the smoke before exhaling it into another’s mouth.”

Dean is confused still for a split second, but then he understands. Everything suddenly feels hot. He glances over at Sam, who is turned away, leant up against a pillow, watching the beginning credits for Home Alone 2.

He gazes back over at Cas. “So it’s like… kissing?”

Cas doesn’t answer, but it’s quite clear.

“O-okay,” Dean whispers.

At the sound of Sam’s giggle, he looks over nervously. But Sam is glued to the TV, sucking on his pen. He doesn’t really want this to be in front of Sam, but…. Oh, how he wants this so badly.

Cas moves even closer, and his hand rests upon Dean’s wrist before taking the pipe from him. As Cas moves the burnt weed to the edge of the bowl, attempting to gather the flecks that are still green, Dean thinks he is starting to feel something.

His mind is a little clearer, and yet it’s blurry.

He is chewing on his lip very hard as he stares at Cas, who is calmly handling the pipe, things becoming out of focus.

_Is he just as nervous?_

“Okay, Dean,” Castiel says, in almost a whisper. “Ready?”

He nods for the third time in agreement, and Cas holds the pipe to his beautifully plump lips, sucking in as he lights the weed.

Then he is pulling it away, the smoke trapped and he sets the pipe on a bookshelf.

Cas turns to him and before Dean can think anything, he’s sliding his hand around Dean’s neck and pulling him in and they’re kissing.

He doesn’t even care about pulling the smoke, rather entranced by moving his lips against Cas’, giving him everything.

_Take it all,_ he thinks.

The smoke disappears from between them, and Cas’ mouth is open on his. He tastes like marijuana and cherry pie.

Dean leans into him, a noise of content slipping from him. He isn’t thinking clearly, and he knows his sobriety has vacated the premise. All he cares about is this.

Their noses bump, and Cas’ fingers are tugging at his hair, just so, and fuck, he _moans_ , so beautifully, and Dean slips his tongue inside Cas’ mouth. Dean feels Cas’ leg slide over his, and suddenly he has him in his lap, both hands running over his hair and cupping his cheek.

Neither of them can find it in themselves to kiss too passionately at the moment, the wear on their minds preventing them from thinking about the seriousness of the situation.

Dean loves him more than he can stand, but all he wants to do is lie here and smoke and have Cas pressed against him.

He nips at Cas’ lips and feels himself falling back onto the blankets, Cas landing on top of him. He laughs when Cas’ hand accidentally slips and jabs him in the stomach. “Oops,” Cas says, and he giggles into Dean’s neck.

They laugh and laugh, and Dean doesn’t feel a worry, not even that Sam is craning his head and grinning at the pair of them, as if he knows exactly what is occurring behind him.

Cas reaches over and grabs the pipe and they light it until Dean is only breathing the burnt bits. They refill it, and shit, he’s so high, so high he could touch the sky and swirl it with his finger and make it into cotton candy, spell out Merry Christmas, light up the world…

The movie plays on, and there are random times where Dean turns his head to kiss Cas on the forehead or Cas rises on his elbow to suck on his jaw and Sam fell asleep a long time ago, snoring like a huge dork.

Before long, the end credits begin to roll and Dean sits up, gripping Cas’ hand. “Wanna go to my room?” He whispers, not caring about the implications or how scary those words are.

“Yeah,” Cas says, eyes wide.

He stands, and they spend another minute laughing for no apparent reason. Dean pulls a blanket over Sam’s curled body and, strangely enough, kisses him sweetly on the forehead. “Night night, Samantha,” he whispers, and they giggle back to his room.

Once Dean has shut the door, just a bit of his nerves rises back up. He turns, and Cas is sitting at the edge of his bed, hands balled up in his lap.

He just looks so… pure. Like an angel.

“Dean?” Cas says softly, and Dean’s aware he’s just standing there, staring.

Dean finds himself dropping to his knees in front of Cas, and they just look at each other, Cas’ head tilt. Cas smiles and twirls a finger in Dean’s short hair, drawing just an inch closer.

He wrestles off his own boots, wondering why he didn’t take them off earlier, and his cheek rests on the inside of Cas’ left knee.

“What does my ring say?” Dean whispers.

“It says, ‘I need you. Always,’” is Cas’ answer, with no hesitation, and Dean could cry.

There’s only a moment more of silence, and then Dean’s hand is gliding slowly down Cas’ leg to his foot. Gazes locked, Dean pulls off his sock, and then the other one, and when he rises, Cas settles himself back on Dean’s bed.

Cas’ eyes are still wide, the effect of the marijuana keeping them perpetually curious looking. Dean rests one knee on the bed beside Cas’ thigh, splaying his a hand on Cas’ stomach. Then he’s dragging it down, unbuttoning his pants, and then those come off too in one fellow swoop, just like Dean’s heart.

Cas has gorgeous broad thighs, and sparse hair, and despite being so wonderfully thick in all the right places, he’s so delicate too. There’s something about his ankles that are so strangely sweet, something about the curve on his kneecap…

Dean pushes Cas’ sweater up, revealing muscles he never knew Cas had, but he’s still so trim and clean and tan… Yeah, he’s getting hard. Cas gets the idea and tears off his sweater, a bit clumsy, throwing it to the side of Dean’s room.

“What a beautiful fucking sight you are,” Dean whispers. He closes his forefinger and thumb upon Cas’ wrist and just looks at him. At how Cas shows no sign of fear, not even a nerve, just a breadth of desire in those deep blue eyes, just the movement of his lips... Trust. Cas is hard within his briefs, and how Dean wants to make him cry out, lick him clean, bring him all of the pleasure he hasn’t yet experienced.

Dean removes his own sweater, his own jeans, releasing a shuddering breath, and when Cas says, “Come here, Dean,” he does.

Dean rises over him and locks their lips quickly, letting every noise escape him, drawing similar ones from the angel below. He grips Cas’ thigh and bends it so that their erections can come together, and Cas lets out a small cry.

“Yeah?” Dean asks, with a smirk, grinding into Cas, hard.

“ _Yes_ ,” Cas hisses, mouth opening with a sigh and a smile before kissing Dean harder.

“Wanna come like this?”

“No, I- I want you.”

Dean pulls away so he can look into Cas’ eyes, so he can make sure that he is hearing this correctly. After all, this could all be some screwed up dream. But God, he’s almost completely sure it isn’t. “What do you mean?”

Sitting up, Cas pushes Dean until he’s back in his lap like before in the library. He holds Dean’s face and rests their foreheads together. “I want to feel you inside of me, Dean. Can we do that?”

Maybe it’s the high or the desire or, most likely, both, but Dean is harder than he has ever been, and fuck, his breath is ragged.

“Fuck yes,” he says. “Fuck, Cas, you’re all I want.”

Cas moans as he pushes them flat again, and without another second wasted, he is ripping Cas’ briefs down his beautiful legs and throwing them to the side. He glances up to see Cas’ stunningly beautiful cock flushed, hard, hard for him. Dean groans and starts to plant wet kisses all up Cas’ leg, biting at his inner thigh, earning tiny gasps of pain and pleasure mixed. Cas’ hands are scrambling, going from gripping the sheets to Dean’s hair, but when Dean reaches Cas’ erection, he reaches for a straying hand and plants it in his hair.

And with a smirk, he wraps his lips over Cas’ cock, earning the loudest gasp of all, and Cas’ fingers tighten. Fortunately, Dean loves to have his hair pulled, loves to suck cock, loves Cas.

He introduces Cas to only the first of many fucking pleasurable wonders of this human experience to come, one hand sliding over Cas’ side, the other propped up by his elbow, stroking the length of Cas’ cock that he can’t fit around. Yeah, Cas is fucking huge, long and slender, but not too much of either, and why, _why_ has he been such a fucking idiot?

They could have been doing this years ago.

He bobs his head, sucking and then licking, scraping his teeth from time to time to earn that beautiful little gasp.

When Cas begins to shudder, legs tightening, Dean lets up, lips popping from the head of Cas’ cock. He smirks, knowing his lips are a deep red, knowing his eyes are red as hell, knowing that this high is making him a lot more confident than their sober first time would have been.

But Cas doesn’t seem bothered by this, only by the fact that Dean had stunted his oncoming orgasm and now he is fucking restless, that pout of his settling on his lips, eyes narrowed. “Why’d you stop?” He whines, kicking Dean is the shoulder blade with his heel.

“Because I got somethin’ even better for ya,” Dean says. He kisses Cas’ thigh before moving towards the other end of the bed, reaching towards his side table to pull out a bottle of lube and a condom.

“We-we don’t need that,” Cas says, referring to the condom, and his voice has this nervous tone Dean hasn’t heard before. He looks over, and Cas is licking his lips, gripping the sheets again.

“Okay.” Dean throws the condom back, before sliding back down, until his face is level with Cas’. “Don’t be nervous,” he whispers, trailing the pad of his thumb down his cheekbone. “I’m gonna take care of you. Just like you took care of me, back there.”

Cas nods, smiling. He’s not the only one with nerves; Dean isn’t exactly an expert when it comes to anal sex.

“Bear with me. It’ll take a while to open you up.”

“You won’t hurt me,” Cas whispers, and he has a tiny smile on his face, like he has a secret to share.

Dean laughs and kisses him deeply, wishing he could have his lips on Cas all the time. He shimmies back down and puts Cas back in his mouth, trying to calm him down a bit more. Then he’s pulling back and licking further down, past the neatly trimmed curls, to Cas’ taint.

The thought of _pure_ keeps rising up to Dean’s tongue, and he can’t believe this is finally happening.

After everything they’ve gone through… after the waiting and dreaming and pain and relief…

There’s too much to even think about in this quick moment, and yeah, those tears are coming up again. He’s hard and emotional and high as fuck, and he’s so in love he can barely breathe.

He sucks light bruises on the delicate skin of Cas’ thighs, and then he tempts a swipe of his tongue over Cas’ hole.

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas cries out, hand back at the base of Dean’s head.

“I know, baby, I’ve got you.” Dean pops the cap on the lube, and after squeezing out a dollop, he warms it with his fingers before sticking the first inside his lover.

“ _Oh_ ,” Cas sighs. His insides contract and Dean groans, imagining it around his aching cock.

The soft, cool skin of Cas’ thigh is wonderful against his cheek as the lube heats, just as he does, and he tempts another finger. Breathy sounds are coming from Cas, softer than usual, an adjustment. “Good?” Dean asks.

“Very. You could pr-probably do another?” Cas’ breath is coming in very fast, and Dean raises his head to look at him.

“You sure?”

“Yes, _please_ , I want you so bad,” Cas whines again, looking as if he’s in pain, as if Dean’s cock could fill him up exactly the way he needs it to.

Dean scissors him open, and Cas must be using what little is left of his powers to help him along, because he is quickly able to fit four and if Dean was to venture further, five, or--

“I’m ready, Dean, please. Please.” Cas begs and begs, and Dean slathers lube onto his cock, shaking at the momentous act ahead.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he says, unable to hold it back. He bends Cas’ right leg, gripping his cock, and Cas bends the other one so he can fit between them. “I’m so sorry, Cas, we—I should have--”

“Don’t,” Cas says, thumb gentle on his lips. “I know, Dean. I’ve always known.”

“I love you,” Dean blurts, eyes squeezing shut. “You knew that though, right?”

Cas makes a soft noise and kisses him softly. Dean lines himself up and pushes, enveloped in Cas’ heat, mind racing and yet, there’s nothing there but the thought of Cas and of them together, finally.

Something of a heightened moan rises from Cas’ throat into Dean’s mouth, and Cas isn’t kissing back, his mouth having fallen open in pleasure that can only mount, overcome. He takes a moment for them both to adjust. He grips the headboard and then Cas’ thigh, the heat so overwhelming around his cock.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Dean groans.

Cas laughs, but when Dean jerks, sending himself even deeper, another gasp rises out. “Please move, Dean, please.”

He does as he is told, pulling out before thrusting back in, deep and hard, sending Cas into a frenzy of moans and harsh breathing. Things only gear up after that, and Dean is fucking into him roughly, the only sound is that of loud moans, their skin coming together, the bed rocking…

Cas looks like he is in disbelief, every thrust bringing a new spike of pleasure through his body, and just looking at him brings Dean’s orgasm closer and closer.

“Close?”

Cas nods, nails scratching across Dean’s back.

Dean plunges deeper inside of Cas, and when he twists himself a bit, holding Cas’ leg even higher, a new angle presents itself and they both groan.

He can tell Cas’ orgasm is coming when Cas starts to brace himself, tightening his hold around Dean, face hidden in his neck.

“Come on, sweetheart, let it go, for me,” Dean babbles, kissing Cas’ forehead as best as he can. “Come for me, baby.”

A few thrusts later and Cas tenses up, a long moan carrying across the room, and Dean grins, kissing his shoulder. “Fuck, yes, Cas, there ya go.”

Cas’ come rests on his stomach, and Cas goes limp as his orgasm takes over. Dean takes the opportunity to thrust into him, to catch his own orgasm and he comes not long after. Cas holds him as it reverberates through his body, and he sighs in happiness against Cas’ shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, Castiel,” Dean whispers.

“I love you,” Cas answers.

This is officially the best Christmas Dean has ever had.

\---

“Merry Christmas!” Sam yells, bursting into their room the next morning, bringing with him the scent of weed and cinnamon rolls. “Holy shit—Cas!? What ever could you be doing in here, in Dean’s _bed_!? This is _such_ a surprise!”

“Oh God,” Dean groans, trying to hide in Cas’ side.

“Merry Christmas to you too, Sam,” Cas says, as if they aren’t naked together under the covers with Sam five feet away.

“Hurry up and get dressed or I will eat your special Christmas breakfast!” Sam exclaims, sounding like a very happy child stuck in a giant’s body.

“Fine, _fine_! Just, get the hell out!” Dean demands, and Sam leaves with a giggle, slamming the door behind him.

Dean relaxes back into the memory foam, grinning when Cas starts kissing his neck. “Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah,” Dean mumbles with a sleepy grin. “Merry Christmas to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I may be a bit of a stoner, but I am not an expert, so if the events described here were a little off, don't be too angry!!! :D
> 
> Read "The Angels of Christmas Screw You," another Christmas fic if you enjoyed this one!   
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/8963923


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